A very quick Alias fic written in response to the Season finale "The Telling." Something I wish would happen because I was very upset with the idea of Vaughn marrying some stupid ho. I think he and Sydney should stay together forever (which they wont) and that they should live happily ever after. Obviously, they won't. Oh well. This is part of my delusion. Obviously, MAJOR spoilers to The Telling and nothing else really. This is a Stream-O-Consciousness. It shouldn't make any sense. ^^*!
hope circle
an alias story
by charisma
_______________________________
hush my love now don't you cry
everything will be all right
close your eyes and drift in dream
rest in peaceful sleep
'lullaby' -- creed
Silence echoed loudly in the room. They'd talked; he'd called. Everything was in order. Everything was set. Once back in the States, they'd try releasing any repressed memories she had. All they had to do was wait.
Just wait.
Sit and wait.
The giant band of silver wrapped around her mind. She could only see it, resting comfortably on his left hand so innocuously. The cold part of her brain brought up agent training. It would be very simple.
So simple.
Her hands would pry it off. Tear off that metal and throw it. Then watch it sink into a lake somewhere. He'd never find it.
She smiled.
Of course, if he'd already bought one, he could buy another one. He could just spend more money. More money. He could do something maudlin and say a piece of string was tying him to her. He should say stuff like that to her.
He used to.
The frigidity of the room made her hands numb. But she was sitting on them. That made them numb too. She cut off the blood supply to her hands and then they'd fall off.
Did he really have to fold his hands?
Why couldn't he even just hide it? But no, he had to sit there displaying it in full glory so it could cut her some more. And really, who chose silver? Wedding rings were supposed to be gold. She wasn't sure why, what myth that had come from but gold. Not silver. Silver was second best and she nearly laughed.
The wife was second best.
Was she first then? That didn't matter: he'd made his choice. So much for true love. She'd never really thought much for the death due us part' deal. After all, being an agent essentially meant that death was nearer than most, except maybe postal workers. She was more of a until death brings us back together' girl. It wasn't procedure for wedding vows but she'd write her own anyways.
But she wasn't getting married.
Nope.
Now he was actually playing with the ring! Oh God, couldn't he just sit still and not constantly remind her that she had been gone, he'd moved on and didn't care for her anymore?
She needed another hug.
Strange, how human touch can bring so much comfort. A hand on the shoulder, an arm around the waist or a full-blown body contact hug, anything to make that coldness go away.
Her mouth opened without her brain and started speaking.
"So how ya been?" He jerked up, startled. Suddenly, she could feel the two years when he looked up. It always seemed like she hadn't looked upon his face for years. Anything with two legs could admit that he was beyond human standards of handsome, but that love that'd been growing opened up new doorways. How many random girls would say they loved the way you could read his every emotion by looking at the wrinkle pattern in his forehead? Who knew he mumbled in French when he was sleeping? Would anyone say they loved the tiny scar under his left ear where he'd been practicing for Peter Pan and jumped off the stairs? Confusion littered his wrinkles, along with a few faint traces of concern.
"Fine." It was curt and short but not angry. And he was lying. She really should tell him about the slight indentation in his chin that developed when he was lying.
Silence again.
And it wasn't golden, but silver.
Finally, she couldn't stand it. Maybe, if he hadn't been playing with it. Or maybe if he hadn't lied but no. Now she had to ask.
"Is it Alice?"
"What?" He sounded really bewildered now. She was standing for no other reason than intimidation into answering.
"Well, you're married now. Who is it?" Her hands went to her hips in that annoying way that women have and she stared down at him. His large green eyes were blank. Just blank whirling pools of some pheromone-laden emerald color that she couldn't quite place because well, she was a spy. Not an artist.
"I-" He glanced into his hands, paying particular attention to the ring round one of his fingers. "I'm not married Sydney."
This time, when her mouth opened, nothing came out. Generally, a ring on the left third finger meant marriage. Did the traditional customs change since the past two years? Her feet swerved and she landed on the bed, staring at him.
"But the ring- it- what- but- I- you're not?" His head was moving back and forth. The universal sign for no.
"No." Well she definitely wanted to hurt him now. He wore the stupid thing, two years after she'd disappeared and what the hell was she supposed to think and he seemed so surprised that she was baffled by it. They'd never sparred before, but she was willing to test his fighting abilities. If she didn't kick his ass, he'd definitely be bleeding.
Her voice was calm, albeit shaking. "But you're wearing a ring."
"It's my father's wedding ring." He started. The voice had already set up a rhythm. It was a story-telling voice and after the bare-bones debriefing she'd had, she was ready for a story. "My mother visited France all the time before I was born. She met my father there. She was at some battlefield, I can't remember which one, and she found a piece of chainmail. She never figured out which war it came from, but Dad was a history buff and it meant more to him than anything she could've ever bought. He had it melted down and fashioned into a ring for his wedding. It wasn't very traditional, but he never was.
"Around two years ago, I wasn't feeling very traditional either. I decided that I wouldn't buy an engagement ring. It had to mean something more than that. So, I was going to give her my father's wedding ring. It's the most precious thing I own. She was the most precious thing to me."
He didn't continue. She couldn't move, staring at him and vainly trying to process what he'd just said.
"I've been wearing it for two years. I was always hoping we'd find her. I refused to believe that she was gone. I think I think I would've worn it for eternity."
Her lips were dry. "Would have?"
"Yes," he nodded, sliding the ring up and down his finger. "But I've found her. And I hope that when she's ready, she'll accept it. When she's ready."
She wet her lips, folding her hands and reminding her legs that it was okay to bend. Her hands shook.
"Until then, I'll just keep it." His voice was pained now. He thought it'd be a long time from now. He thought she had forgotten. He thought she was now cold and distant.
"Well, don't get too comfortable with it."
A soft startled look found its way into his eyes, but he smiled too. The doorbell rang. It was time to go back. Back to the States, back in time, back in memories.
She wasn't lost anymore.
la fin
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